


Beautiful Disaster

by Cinaed



Series: Disaster [1]
Category: CSI: Las Vegas
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash, Het, One Night Stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-15
Updated: 2006-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are moments that you regret, and there are moments you would never take back in a million years. Sometimes, a moment is simply a mixture of both sentiments -- a beautiful disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Disaster

Wendy has always had three simple rules for one-night stands, and they have always served her well. The first is not to have a fling with someone she works with, because it causes complications (and Wendy likes being an uncomplicated girl). The second is to not use endearments, because it causes attachments (the heart is so easily fooled into caring). The third is, of course, not to stay the night, because it causes confusion (mostly because it leads to the unwanted question of whether there will be another night like this one). 

With Sara Sidle, Wendy breaks every single rule, and knows she will regret it even as her rules are crushed beneath her feet. 

There is something fragile and beautiful in Sara’s eyes that day after shift (there had been two heartbreaking cases that night, one involving the sexual abuse of a six-year-old girl by her cousin and the other where a thirteen-year-old boy had finally seen his mother get beaten one too many times and had snapped). She looks so lonely and heartsick that Wendy impulsively asks if she wants to have breakfast with her. 

Sara is surprised, of course, because they are not friends, not really, but after a flicker of hesitation, she smiles wanly and nods. 

They decide to bring some food from the diner over to Sara’s apartment (it’s closer), and somehow in the midst of breakfast, Wendy’s innocent intent to cheer the CSI up has been derailed and a new train -- this one carrying carnal thoughts and urges -- has taken over the tracks. She cannot help but notice the shimmer of Sara’s hair or the endearing nature of her smile (slightly crooked teeth have always been a weakness for Wendy, because the smiles are just so perfectly lopsided and sweet). 

Wendy doesn’t know who starts it, who bumps their knee against the other’s and then lets it linger. She just knows that she’s only eaten three-quarters of her breakfast before she and Sara are kissing. She feels slightly guilty for having had bacon, because surely some grease is still on her lips, but Sara doesn’t comment and so she doesn’t apologize. 

When Sara kisses her, it is fierce and raw, such a contradiction to the heartsick, fragile look in her eyes earlier, but it also tastes of desperation, and Wendy thinks she understands that Sara needs this, craves this physical contact, this tactile connection, if just for the moment. 

This doesn’t explain why she finds herself murmuring things like, "You’re beautiful, baby," while she slides the other woman’s shirt off her shoulders and kisses a silky shoulder. Sara’s body is slender and surprisingly delicate-looking when she is naked, with an expanse of smooth skin that Wendy could spend hours roaming with her lips and hands (and she does spend a good deal of time stroking and coaxing soft sighs from the other woman). 

She is enthralled by the way Sara’s head tilts back and a flush spreads across her face when Wendy slides down between her legs, hands still roaming the silky expanse of her tight stomach and waist, smiling at just the hint of hipbone pressing against her fingertips. Sara has always been an attractive woman, more cute than beautiful, but she looks absolutely lovely like this, all flushed and eyes dark with lust and need. 

Afterwards, Wendy places a gentle kiss against Sara’s shoulder (how could anyone have such soft skin?) and climbs carefully out of bed. She has picked up both bras from the ground, trying to figure out whose was whose, when Sara says sleepily, "You can stay, you know." 

Wendy turns and stares, but Sara’s eyes are closed, and so she cannot tell if the woman is serious or not. It’s only now, with the AC softly humming in the corner of the room and the cool air raising goose bumps on her bare skin, that Wendy remembers her three rules. She just looks at Sara for a moment, taking in her messy strands, the sated expression, the pale arm that pats the empty part of the bed that Wendy’s just left. Well, she supposes if she’s broken two, she might as well throw away the last one too. 

"All right," she says softly, and is rewarded by a pleased, drowsy smile on the other woman’s face as she slides back into bed and curls into the half-embrace that Sara offers her. 

Sara does not ask that awkward question of ‘another time, maybe?’ when they wake up, and Wendy finds herself almost, almost disappointed as she gathers her clothes, offers Sara a slight smile, and heads to her own apartment. 

When she sees Sara the next shift, the other woman offers her a small smile, as though they share a secret, but doesn’t mention the breakfast and the breakfast’s aftermath at all, and Wendy, who knows how to take a hint, follows suit. 

That doesn’t explain why Sara is seeming calmer and happier in the following weeks, but it doesn’t take Wendy long to figure out what’s happened -- just a few days of studying the warm glow on Sara’s face and the brightness in her eyes, watching how that glow only lightens her expression when a certain someone comes into the room and how the brightness in her eyes sparks whenever he looks at her, and Wendy figures it out. 

Sara Sidle has finally snagged the most elusive catch of them all, one Gil Grissom. 

Wendy tries to ignore the pangs of almost-jealousy that well up within her, but doesn’t quite succeed. She avoids speaking to both of them for a few days, until she is certain her voice can remain neutral (and if she’s feeling particularly strong-willed at that particular moment, friendly). She greets Sara in the hallway with a nod and a smile, and makes no mention, not even the barest hint, of that breakfast and the time spent under Sara’s sheets, even if she wonders how Grissom would react. Or if he even knows. 

Wendy fights against her own foolishness, the way her heart twists a little in her chest every time she sees Grissom walk into the room and Sara’s face light up, or the Gordian knot in her stomach that gets larger whenever she catches a playful, intimate undertone to something Sara’s said to him. It doesn’t really work, this attempt at denial, and she feels a bit of herself dying every time she watches the two discussing a case, heads bent just a little closer to each other than necessary. 

But Wendy is a girl who doesn’t like complications, attachments, or confusion. Eventually, she will move past this ridiculous crush, find a way to get back to her uncomplicated life of one-night stands and sex without strings attached, no quandary whatsoever whether or not the dance beneath the sheets will ever happen again. Life is simpler, and less painful, that way. 

Besides, if she feels an acute sort of misery, it’s her own fault, really, for breaking the rules.   



End file.
